SHE

 

SHE 1135

She turned over and snuggled down in her warm bed and wondered if it was time to get up. Time for what ? She thought, I have no job. I retired years ago. What is my timetable today or any other day? It seems that my body is my only concern. My eyes are dimmer. Perhaps I have an opticians appointment. My tinnitus is -- is what? It is still there. It's always there. Perhaps I shall try to wear my hearing aids today. What would be the point? I don't want to watch the TV and if I did I would but on the sub titles. Why would I want to watch the news. It's all bad. Violence and war . Disasters and pollution. What can I do about it?

I remember a time when I tried. Tried so hard. To what? It was in the 80's when getting up early had a purpose. It was post my divorce and what had been the outside world and nothing to do with me suddenly became my world. It was as though I had awakened from a personal nightmare and was catapulted into a public catastrophe.

It all came flooding back. Memories tumbling over each other. The miners' strike, Greenham Common, nuclear weapons, Ban the Bomb, Nightmare in Paradise, CND, marches, protests, arrests, court cases.

So what did it all achieve, she thought. They closed the mines.The world still has the bomb and nuclear power. It's a fact that Kier Starmer is talking about a major boost for Sizewell C.

Thousands of UK jobs will be created as French energy firm EDF confirms today it will take a 12.5% stake in Sizewell C – in a major boost for UK growth and energy security.

The Strategic Defence Review sees plans for up to 12 new nuclear-powered submarines and 7,000 long-range missiles.

The Pacific Ocean is still and always will be polluted. Be warned, don't eat tuna. Did the imprisoned women who cut the fence at Greenham Common improve prison conditions? They certainly tried.

So what about the environment. Planting trees seems to be a good option. Not cutting them down in the first place would be even better especially in the Amazon. I have done my bit on that score. I did plant more than 200 trees in my garden in Brittany. I have never used pesticides and still don't. My off spring all receive gifts of tree plantings for birthday and xmas presents.

She turned over again, sat up and drew the curtains. Through the window she could see trees. Lots of trees. Tall trees. Mature trees. Such joy every morning. Often when it was windy it seemed as though the trees were waving to her. They signaled the seasons. Today in full leaf it's Summer. Soon the leaves will change and fall. She wondered if she would survive the next Winter when the trees would be bare and the house would be cold. She remembered when she lived in a cold upstairs flat and the only view through that window was of one tree and a brick wall.

So what did I do besides demonstrate and work. I read. I read, read read and read.

I painted, even had four paintings in the City Museum and Art Galley. I painted that damn brick wall. I also wrote and self published a semi-autobiographical novel and a book of short stories.

I played music too. Playing music with other people is one of the greatest joys in life. I remember the first time I played in the Biddulph clarinet choir. I played my fiddle in a folk band and we even got paid. I do wish I could still play.

Gardening. When I lived in France gardening possessed me. It was a field. A five thousand square metre field. I transformed it into a garden. Not just any old garden but a garden of rooms. An orchard with apple, pear, cherry and plum trees. I planted raspberry, blackcurrant and gooseberry bushes. I didn't need to plant black berries. They grew twenty feet high on one side of the garden and the yearly bumper crop was enjoyed not only by me but the birds and all my neighbours.

The wood of silver birch, oak, horse chestnut and ash was my pride and joy. The meditation garden took four years to create. I bought and planted 25 hornbeam.each year. So the total of the hundred were planted in a circle. In the middle I dug a pond which I surrounded with. irises.

The gravel garden was inspired by Beth Chatto. The flower garden had a lawn like a classic English garden.. There were rose covered arches through which one could walk from one room to another. A path which was bordered by tall interesting grasses which included very tall Pampas lead to a greenhouse. A greenhouse which did not contain plants but comfortable chairs and a table on which there were piles of books and gardening magazines. Usually my cat sat on my knew as I read.

So today. what can I do today? No cats to feed now. No grass to cut.

She slide out of bed and walked to the top of the stairs. Looking through the window at the tiny garden she saw that the fig tree had not only reached the roof but the five figs seemed to be ripe.

If only I could reach them. I know climbing a ladder would be to dangerous. Maybe if I open the window a little and stretch my arm out and----

So she tried. The window was one of those sash ones which you had to lift from the bottom and heave up. In earlier times it would then stay open due to some clever balance device. Unfortunately for some reason the device no longer worked and one had to find a way of preventing the window of closing. She tried. She opened it a crack and slid a piece of wood to hold it open just wide enough for her arm to reach a ripe fig. She gripped the fig. It was ripe alright. So ripe that her fingers squashed the damn thing to mush and it fell the twenty or so feet to the ground. Splat. The wood which had been holding the window open also fell. Fell heavily on her arm. Trapped. She was trapped. No need for her to wonder what time it was or what to do today for the window had broken her arm and she passed out. So she didn't hear the arrival of the ambulance which her neighbour had summoned and which took her to the hospital where she was pronounced dead on arrival.

If she could think she would have thought, 'Should have stayed in bed.'

Book Release

 I forgot to post it. My book of short stories 'Killing Time and other stories' by Jean Wild has been published.

Advice for writer

 Hunter Sage Taylor 

Often newbies ask what they should do when they first start out. There's probably a million answers to this question, most of them very technical. So let's talk about where the rubber meets the road, when you have to sit in front of a blank screen or a fresh piece of paper and create something, something worth reading.

Start with short stories. Write a few hundred. You should be able to write a short story every week. Write in different genres. Write from different points of view. Write like you're the opposite sex.

When you first start out, concentrate on writing interesting, funny or profound dialogue. I hate to break it to you, but beyond a certain point, nobody cares how well you describe the meadow.

All the sudden it's up to you to be funny, or threatening, or interesting, suddenly you realize the burden is on you to carry the conversation.

Virtually anybody can write grammatically correct sentences, but can you write a perfect sentence again and again? And again.

Can you make your character funny? Cuz if you can't make him or her funny by making the character say funny things you're in trouble.

Suppose your character is a low-level genius who was drafted into the military and never got near a college of any kind. Maybe he wasn't a very good student in high school because his alcoholic father was always beating his mother up and he had to protect her, so he barely made it. What would he sound like? Would he use big words? Would he swear a lot? Can you make him sound interesting? Entertaining?

Many people when they first start out. Think this is easy. But here's a challenge. Put two people in a restaurant. Describe their backgrounds shortly and a little bit about who they are and then start having them talk to each other. You need to make it interesting -like "My Dinner with Andre".

You think that's easy? I think you're going to find that it is really hard. What? You spent 4 years learning all about writing and the history of writing and so on and so on and they never told you you had to be funny or mean or deceptive.

If you're a rather boring person yourself, it's going to be even harder. Think about it. Nobody's going to read your wonderful story regardless of how well you write descriptions

Or describe the beautiful landscape. Boring.

The first thing you have to do after you create a basket full of characters is put them in an interesting environment and make them talk and not sound like the same person. Even more important. Make them not sound like you, especially if you're a boring person.

Let's face it, if you're an introvert and that doesn't mean you aren't a smart and a wonderful person, but it probably means you're going to have trouble making your characters funny or interesting or threatening or any number of things.

Ask yourself, if I'm going to create a sympathetic character isn't his or her dialogue going to going to follow along those line

Create two people. Put them at a table in a restaurant. It's their first date and have them talk to each other and make each other's dialogue sound completely different. Even more, reveal who they are through their dialogue. It's harder than you think.

If you're the kind of person that has difficulty coming up with interesting and funny things to say, you could be in trouble. It's better you know this before you go any further.

To paraphrase Clint Eastwood particularly The Outlaw Josey Wales, " When the going gets tough, and it looks like you're not going to make it, then you got to get mean, I mean plum mad dog mean. Cuz if you lose your head, you'll neither live nor win."

You stand there, trembling, unsure of what to say. You can smell that Josey has been on a horse all day, but it's not a rank odor. It speaks of well-worn leather and sweat and gunpowder.

Josey Wales hands you your writing pencil. He stares at you with those steely eyes squinting so hard you can barely see his pupils, and ends with, " That's just the way it is." Then he walks away.

Gird your loins (Don't say that around the kids it'll make them sick), suck in your gut, and at least pretend that you know what to do with that pencil Josey shoved in your hand.

You're going to create an incredible world, a new world and you have to do it all by yourself. Let's go!

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